Reckoning Pt 2
by Rose7
Summary: Terry McGinnis learns some difficult lessons- some from living and some from dying.
1. Elementi

I hear something. A sound so slight that if I wasn't a master at making it myself, I wouldn't have heard it. I creep around to the side of the building, staying as close to the wall as I can.  
  
Slowly, Wayne always said. Go slowly and silently.  
  
There, around the corner of the building, are a bunch of thieves known as the Jackrabbit Syndicate. Where they got their ridiculous name I have no idea, and I don't plan on bothering to find out. All I know is that they're planning to break into this building and steal a half a million of hard- earned dollars.  
  
And that it's my job to stop them.  
  
I slide open a window to the building and position myself right behind the door they're about to blow.  
  
Surprise is your best defense, McGinnis. I know Wayne, I know.  
  
I hardly listened to him. I made a lot of mistakes. But 12 years on my own have taught me a few things. Most of them lessons from him that I never understood until now.  
  
Now that I'm alone.  
  
And even while I'm alone, every move I make I can hear his criticisms or comments, rating me on what I'm doing.  
  
The thieves slip in the door. They're experts at moving without being seen, and experts at noticing others who can't be seen. But they don't notice me. I shut the door. I hold my breath, waiting for one of them to notice.  
  
One of them does. He doesn't say any words, just whistles softly to his superior and starts to look around warily. He doesn't realize where I am until I'm standing right behind him, practically breathing down his neck, and tap him on the shoulder.  
  
The thief, up until now a complete professional and one of the better thieves I've seen, lets his resolve go and screams.  
  
I can imagine Wayne chuckling even as I desperately try to fight off the 5 that swarm in around me.  
  
If you can beat one, you can beat seven just like him. I used to think that was easy for Wayne to say, seeing as how he was always back in the cave, out of danger. But Wayne never said anything that didn't have meaning of some sort. Nothing was meant to be taken at face value.  
  
Within 10 minutes, I have them all out cold. The ever-punctual-but-never-in- time police show up. Commissioner Gordon, still alive but starting to look weathered, steps out of the car and notices one of my thrown batarangs still stuck in the wall.  
  
"Well boys, you can chalk another arrest up to Batman." She mutters, glancing around as if I'm going to descend on her at any moment.  
  
I laugh under my breath and steal silently away. 


	2. Lavoro

"Mr. McGinnis?" I look up. 24 executives and Paxton Powers are all staring at me.  
  
I used to get woken up at school. Now I get woken up at work.  
  
"Yes?" Powers glares at me from across the table.  
  
"We would appreciate it if you could pay attention during our meetings, sir."  
  
"Maybe I would if our meetings brought me anything good. All I've heard for weeks is claims and objections and petitions against you, Mr. Powers." Powers glares at me but says nothing else. Just another one of our daily skirmishes in the war that'll never end as long as I have 49% of this company.  
  
I'm the CEO. I should be allowed to daydream during meetings.  
  
Wayne Powers Industries- the second most important thing Wayne left to me. I'm 29 now. Old enough to get some respect, but young enough to bring innovation to the company, which is probably why they haven't tried to seize control of my holdings. Powers is 5 years older than me, but they've seen his track record and they don't trust him as much as they do Bruce Wayne's heir.  
  
The college degree I got after four years of doing papers on rooftops in between fighting crime probably helps too.  
  
"I want to call your attention to the March profits, gentlemen." Powers says, waiting as each old man turns the pages in his profit report.  
  
"If you'll care to observe, our stock market value decreased right along with our profits when the Venezuelan purchase was made."  
  
"If you'll also care to observe," Powers adds, leaning the other end of the table, his smug face only on me, "The signature on that purchase was none other than Mr. McGinnis'." 24 old faces turn to me.  
  
Wayne's brand of life insurance- the money, the company- was a little different than most. It had one catch; the recipient would spend his entire life fighting to keep it.  
  
I sigh and stand up, leaning against my own side of the table in the position that I'm usually in with Powers- the defense.  
  
"You lose a little to gain a little, gentlemen. Besides, I had to do what I could for the company after the aerospace catastrophe back in February. Which, as you might remember, Mr. Powers, YOU authorized." The old men are pretty easily swayed between Powers and me, both of us being reasonably intelligent and quick thinkers.  
  
But Powers learned from his father. I learned from Bruce Wayne. I have the better odds.  
  
The meeting ends and the executives file out. Powers stays for a moment, glaring at me.  
  
I consider sticking my tongue out at him, but think better of it.  
  
Don't be juvenile McGinnis. The funny thing was, Mr. Wayne used to say that to me while I WAS a juvenile.  
  
I've got things to do anyways. It's my turn to pick up Ben.  
  
My son. 


	3. Capire Male

I speed up to the school and stop. Benjamin Terrence McGinnis, or better known to everyone else as Ben, is leaning up against a tree, blowing breaths of impatience up into his black hair. I get out of the car and jog over to him.  
  
"Dad!" He says, surprised.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I thought for sure you'd forget." He says, glancing down at his feet like he's ashamed that such a thought crossed his mind.  
  
Why shouldn't he think that? It wouldn't be the first time I forgot.  
  
"Well I'm here, so I didn't forget." Ben grins at me.  
  
"Not necessarily Dad. You could still forget me even though you're here." He looks just like me, but his personality is looking like it's going to be the unpredictable craziness of Lydia. We get back into the car and I begin the drive home. I feel slightly uncomfortable- even though I shouldn't feel uncomfortable with my own son.  
  
Maybe if I saw him more than 10 minutes a day, I wouldn't.  
  
"Did you hear anything about Batman today?" I murmur. Ben's face lights up.  
  
That topic gets him every time.  
  
"He's amazing!"  
  
"Why? Did he do something schway?" Ben rolls his eyes at the word "schway", but continues.  
  
"He rounded up a whole gang in one night! The police would have completely missed them! God, how great would it be to be Batman!" Ben gets lost in his own eagerness. It's almost ironic: Ben worships Batman. Not the hero-worship thing my kid brother used to have, but this strange idolization that's shown in every decision he makes.  
  
He worships Batman, but he's starting to think I'm a total dreg. Go figure. If Ben only knew...  
  
But Ben doesn't know.  
  
We reach Wayne Manor and go inside. It's still called Wayne Manor, even though a Wayne hasn't resided in it for 12 years. Ben used to be afraid of the place when he was little.  
  
And why not? It kinda scared me back when I was 17.  
  
Ben flings his stuff on the floor and collapses into a chair. I've got about a half-hour of free time before I go off to be Batman, and I'm not spending a second of it without Ben.  
  
The phone rings. Ben picks it up.  
  
"Hello? Yeah hi Nate..." Ben didn't inherit the wild mannerisms of his parents. He's well-liked practically everywhere he goes.  
  
Unfortunately his popularity just makes it harder for me to spend the little free time I have with him. I sigh and sit down in a chair across from Ben. I fight to get a chance to be with him, but it's always at the wrong time.  
  
Ben was born: I was out being Batman.  
  
Ben's first steps: I was at college, desperately trying to stay awake during my classes.  
  
Ben's first day of school: I was at a Wayne-Powers corporate convention.  
  
Ben didn't even say "Daddy" until he was 3.  
  
We both hear a door slamming. Lydia's home. She decided a long time ago that the only was to make an entrance was to make a loud entrance. She comes into the room.  
  
"Ben, get off the phone." Lydia doesn't bother with the formalities of "hi" or "how was your day".  
  
"Why?" Ben murmurs.  
  
"Because I'm home." Ben smirks at me, as if we both understand something about Lydia that no one else does, and hangs up the phone.  
  
"Why are you home so early?" I ask. Lyd glances at me.  
  
"Tonight's Ben's big game. I skipped out." Lydia's reasonably busy too, but she would lie, cheat, steal, and/or kill to have time with Ben. She's usually at Gotham Museum, putting her brand new doctorate-in- archaeology to use.  
  
She was thrilled to get it because now she's not dependent on me in any way.  
  
But skipped out for the big game? Oh no. I'm in trouble.  
  
"You are coming, right Dad?" Ben suddenly says, as if he just realized that I might miss another important thing in his life like I've done a thousand times.  
  
There's a planned assassination attempt on the Mayor of Gotham tonight. I can't do anything else but be Batman.  
  
"I have to work." Lydia's head snaps up at the all too familiar phrase, because she knows that it really means I have to go risk my life again. Ben tries to look like he's not upset, but he's a horrible actor. His face contorts into something that looks like it's about to cry and laugh at the same time.  
  
"I'm really sorry, Ben. I'll make it up to you. I promise."  
  
"No. It's okay Dad." Ben says in that monotone it's-not-really-okay voice. I can feel Lydia's glare, cool as ice, burning down on my forehead. I don't dare look up at her.  
  
"You've already been to work today." Lydia snaps. Don't do this to me Lyd. Don't put me in this trap. She's forcing me to make up stories and she knows how I hate to lie. But she doesn't care.  
  
"Accounting wants to go over some records with me. They can't wait. I just left so I could pick up Ben."  
  
"Just like they had to go over them last week when you missed Ben's season opener, McGinnis." Lydia replies. Ben gets up and walks out of the room. He knows that Lydia's angry when she calls me McGinnis.  
  
Lydia and I fight. We used to be inseparable. We used to never have a mean word for each other. We used to think we were above couples who did.  
  
Of course, that was before we had Ben, before Wayne died, and before I inherited an international corporation and a savings account of millions. We used to understand everything about each other.  
  
Now we can barely stand each other.  
  
"He needs you to be there. It's very important to him." She says in a low voice.  
  
Now we fight over dinner, in bed, at parties-  
  
"I know it's important. You think I'm missing it on purpose? If I could be there I would."  
  
On vacation, at home, when we're out-  
  
"You're out there every night. You can miss one to be there for your son."  
  
Around Ben, around strangers, among colleagues and friends-  
  
"I can't miss a night. One night makes all the difference." Hah. Never thought I'd be agreeing with you Wayne.  
  
Lydia calmly throws her briefcase across the room and watches it slide into the corner.  
  
We fight everywhere.  
  
"He sees you a half-hour a day, Terry McGinnis. I doubt he even knows he has a father anymore." When Lydia's frustrated, she calls me Terry. When she's angry, she calls me McGinnis. When she's furious and ready to kill me, she calls me Terry McGinnis.  
  
Lyd will yell at me forever for never being around with Ben, for never being there for Ben, or how much Ben misses me, but she's never said a word about if she misses me or if she needs me to be there for her.  
  
"We have this argument every night, Lydia. Do you really think the outcome is going to change?" I shout back. I'm pissed off. She used to respect me for the constant juggling act I had to do- a job, a wife and son, Batman- and now she's constantly condemning me for it. Do I sacrifice people lives for my son's big game? No. That wouldn't be fair.  
  
Of course, it's equally not fair to sacrifice my life for the lives of others. But I do it anyway.  
  
Because I'm Batman. 


	4. Per Forza

The city is quiet.  
  
When it's quiet, it usually means it's time for me to go home.  
  
Although there's really nothing waiting for me at home. Ben and Lydia are both asleep. And even if they were awake, Lydia would be glaring at me and Ben would be dragging his feet in that lethargic way he gets when I miss something important to him.  
  
There's something I have to do before I go home though. I slip a long coat on over my suit.  
  
Wayne's yearly visits to his parents' murder scene were pretty much out in the open. Wayne took no pains to hide them and it was a common known fact that everyone went "awww" over.  
  
I'd do the same thing, but my parents' death scenes are now apartments occupied by other people.  
  
Instead I stop by Dad's grave every night I can. I walk up to the edge of the mound of dirt. It's long settled and covered with grass, but there's still a slight incline to it, like God's never going to let me forget that my father is buried here.  
  
Mom always told me to visit him. The part she never let out was that she wanted me to visit him because I never spent enough time with him in life.  
  
They loved each other. They had to. Even now I don't accept their divorce. Which is why I made sure that Mom was buried near Dad.  
  
Mom died a couple years ago, victim to some stupid cancer that she never thought she had the time to deal with. She never had the desire to tell Matt and me about it either. I guess she thought it would be better if it was a complete shock to us, like Dad.  
  
Even to the end, Mom didn't take advantage of what Mr. Wayne left me. She'd been working too long and too hard on her own to suddenly take an enormous handout.  
  
I guess it's that McGinnis sense of self-sufficiency.  
  
"I haven't seen you here in a while." I look up. Matt, my younger brother, stands on the other side of the grave. We usually catch each other here.  
  
"I've been busy." Matt says nothing, just stares down at the words on the tombstone for a minute.  
  
My little brother is 20 now. He's lived through the premature deaths of both parents, his older brother's rebellious stage, and the inheritance of millions of dollars from his brother.  
  
The odd thing is that Matt's probably the most well-adjusted one in the family. He's the one who'll have a "normal" life.  
  
I hold my coat tighter around me, trying to hide the protruding red bat that's peeking out from the buttons of my coat. Matt doesn't know I'm Batman, never thought that I could be Batman, and with any luck will die an old man still not knowing I'm Batman.  
  
And I know that's the way it should be, that things are much easier with Matt not knowing my secret as well, but I'd like to tell him.  
  
If only to see the look on his face.  
  
"How's college going?" Matt glances up at me.  
  
"It's okay I guess. How's being the head of an international corporation?" I can never tell if Matt is still teasing me or if he's being sincere. I still see him as that annoying 8-year-old twip sometimes.  
  
"Never mind. You look pretty slagged so I think I can guess. How about Lydia and Ben?" I open my mouth to say something, but Matt beats me to it. He always has to have the last word. Or the first.  
  
"Mad at you again, huh?" I just nod, smiling wryly at him.  
  
"Keep trying. It's hard to stay mad at you for too long, Terry." Matt says as he turns to leave.  
  
Oh you'd be surprised just how long people can stay mad, Matt.  
  
*************************************************************  
  
I wake up the next morning next to Lyd, like I have for the past 12 years. I shake her to wake her up.  
  
"Lyd." She opens one eye.  
  
"It's Saturday." I can't help but laugh.  
  
"Lyd it's Thursday." She shuts the eye and pulls herself out of bed.  
  
"Maybe I'll stay home anyway." She murmurs, looking back at me.  
  
"Maybe I will too." I say it almost like it's a threat.  
  
"What would you do at home Terry?" She asks, rolling her neck around like some massage client in the throes of relaxation.  
  
"Talk to Ben. Argue with you." Lydia smiles. Sometimes it's funny that we fight.  
  
Most times it's not.  
  
"He won, in case you were wondering." She adds. I sigh. Ben might forgive me after a while. Lydia never, ever forgets. And she never, ever lets herself be the loser of an argument.  
  
"I'll make it up to him."  
  
"He'd probably like it better if Batman made it up to him." Lydia says, giggling. Unlike me, she seems to find humor in the fact that Batman has scored more points with Ben than I have in his whole life- and he's never met Batman.  
  
"Cut it out Lyd. You might not need Ben's adoration, but I'd sure as hell like to have it." Lydia gets up from the bed, stretching her limbs into strange contortions.  
  
Of course Lydia doesn't need it. Lydia doesn't need anything. She's the great, fearless center of her own universe.  
  
And that makes me mad for some reason.  
  
I need Ben. I need Lydia more than I'll admit.  
  
But she's never needed me.  
  
"By the way," Lydia says, stopping at the door before she exits the room. "You might want to be a little quieter when you come in at night."  
  
Quieter? I'm already hiding my secret from half my family, most of my friends, and all of Gotham.  
  
Do I have to hide things from Lydia now too? 


	5. Monte

"Gentlemen, this is ridiculous." Paxton Powers snaps over the table. It seems like he calls these meetings at least twice a day, and every meeting he might as well be talking to himself. The old executives barely listen.  
  
And I don't listen at all.  
  
"Look at these figures! Company stock is dangerously close to losing some of its prime investors." I sigh and toss the paper on the table.  
  
"Mr. Powers, where exactly are you getting all these figures? We do an analysis once a month, not once every twelve hours." He probably makes them up, hoping that one of these days, someone will agree with him.  
  
But no one has yet. I swivel around in my chair, looking both juvenile and confident at the same time.  
  
"Mr. McGinnis," Powers says as calmly as he can through his red face of anger and desperation, "If you looked at the figures or used that crackerjack box degree of yours once in a while, you would realize that I have a much firmer grasp on this company then you seem to." One executive, tired of hearing it, gets up to leave.  
  
"Mr. Jacobs?" Powers calls after him. Jacobs turns.  
  
"Paxton, I've had enough. You interrupt our lives; call us away from our families and our friends for this? To listen to you rant and rave about what a horrible job Mr. McGinnis is doing when he's pumping out the best deals since the days of Mr. Wayne? Go home, Paxton. Give it a rest." Powers stands tall, holding his head high with dignity.  
  
"I will put the best interests of this company above my own interests, Mr. Jacobs, as I hope every man here would as well." He glances at me, as if to imply that I spend too much time at home and not enough time here.  
  
Hah. I can just see Lydia's face turning red, tears rolling down her cheeks as she holds her sides in uncontrollable laughter.  
  
Too much time at home. That's a laugh.  
  
The rest of the executives follow Mr. Jacobs' example and exit the room. I sit in the chair a minute longer, feeling just a tiny bit sorry for Powers.  
  
But not much.  
  
"Cheer up Paxton. With any luck they won't fire you." He glares up at me. I'm pretty much asking for it.  
  
"My father would have never allowed this to happen. To let some punk teenager take the helm of his company-" Powers trails off, his hatred for me unable to be expressed in words any longer. In a way I can relate to him. He wants to be just like his father.  
  
"Mr. Wayne had the final say in what went on in HIS company, Mr. Powers. I thought you'd have realized that by now." Powers gets up and walks over to me. Leaning over my chair, he scrunches his face into something that is supposed to be a menacing look.  
  
"You've been a thorn in my side too long, Terry." Paxton Powers is threatening me? I laugh up at him.  
  
"How are you going to fix it, Paxton? Going to try and have me killed again?" It's not like he hasn't tried. He's done it a hundred times- clumsily and harmlessly.  
  
He'll never be the demon his father was.  
  
I get up and exit the room, leaving Powers still standing there, glaring at the chair as if I'm still sitting in it.  
  
****************************************************************  
  
I glance at the clock. 11 pm. About time to sneak down to the cave and get to work. I lean over the bed. Lydia's out. She's one of those people who fall asleep right on the dot every night, and then wake up in the morning with insane levels of energy. I walk out of the bedroom and glance up and down the hall before continuing down it.  
  
There's never any sound from Ben's room. Even when he was a baby he never cried. If there was a nuclear explosion, Ben would probably keep on sleeping.  
  
But I feel strange. Like someone's watching me.  
  
I know no one else is in the house. But it still puts me on edge, and I creep down to the cave looking over my shoulder the whole time. I've been doing this for 12 years- no one knows that from 11 till god-knows-when I'm out being Batman.  
  
I put on the suit and fly out to Gotham. It's a reasonably routine night.  
  
After a while anything can become routine. I spend one more hour checking things over, then fly back to the cave. It's 1:30 am.  
  
With any luck I'll get more than 5 hours worth of sleep. And that's on a good night, like tonight.  
  
Any night that Batman is needed is never a good night. Wayne used to say that to me when I'd make some dumb remark like "tonight was easy" or "I'm never going out there again". What the hell did I know? I was only 17. I pull off the mask.  
  
I rub my eyes. I must have been a bit too tired tonight. No one was following me. Who could? I've become too good at covering my own tracks.  
  
"Dad?" I open my eyes.  
  
Ben?  
  
I turn. Sure enough, Ben stands there, staring in half disbelief and half elation at me. I suddenly realize I'm still wearing the suit, still standing in the cave.  
  
Ben knows. 


	6. Scoperta

I should have realized that he would have figured it out. That he would know that his father wasn't in bed every night, that there was a reason why he was so tired and why he was never able to spend any time with him.  
  
Ben's not the type to just assume that it's his father's fault.  
  
"You're.Batman?" I shrug my shoulders, giving Ben a rueful smile.  
  
We didn't plan on telling Ben. Ever.  
  
I can't imagine how he feels- to find out that your lifelong idol is really just.your dad. He walks around me in a slow circle, jaw dropped and eyes wide.  
  
"Whoa." He picks up the discarded mask with an air of reverence.  
  
"Dad, why didn't you tell me?" The hurt in his voice takes over the awe. Wayne warned me. Over and over he told me never to share this part of myself with anyone. Over and over he told harrowing tales of Grayson, of Drake, Barbara and countless others, who found out the secret and it destroyed their lives. He told me of love after love who faded out of his life once they discovered that he dressed up like a bat and ran around at night fighting crime.  
  
But over and over again I let people find out.  
  
I seat myself in Wayne's chair.  
  
"It's dangerous, Ben. It gets harder with every person that finds out. Once someone knows who I am, the more likely of a target they are for the crags out there. I didn't want to risk you getting hurt." There I go again, agreeing with Wayne. Ben rolls his eyes.  
  
"Dad.Its Batman." His tone reflects the admiration he's had all his life.  
  
"Well I'm sure you've lost your respect now that you know he's really your boring Dad." Ben ignores me, gazing about the cave. I remember the first time I stood in this cave. Only 17, full of bravado from sneaking in and full of elation at discovering that the suit was at my disposal.  
  
And full of rage for Dad's killers.  
  
"How long have you been doing this?" I look back up at Ben.  
  
"All your life." And nearly all of mine.  
  
"Wait, if this is here, under Wayne Manor, then that means." He doesn't finish, but we both know the rest. Your legacy is discovered, Mr. Wayne.  
  
Again.  
  
"And you can't ever tell anyone about that." There's really no point in warning him. Ben would rather cut off his own hand then ever betray Batman. He nods gravely.  
  
"Ben?" We both turn. From out of the darkness comes Lydia. She looks very tired, yet also alarmed at the same time. For a moment she stares at us.  
  
"Idolo." She mutters something in Italian and leans against the wall.  
  
"I guess you know now." She murmurs, almost to herself. Her dark brown hair lies in dishevelment around her shoulders, and her eyes watch me with half hesitation, half sorrow. For a moment I remember that I'm supposed to be madly, insanely in love with the gorgeous woman in front of me.  
  
Then I remember that this morning, on our way to work, we got into yet another fight and she told me she hated me in Italian. I said that she didn't understand me at all.  
  
"This is so schway!" Ben says, putting the mask on his head. Ironically enough it fits him perfectly. "How do you do it?"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Defend the entire city! Arrest all those crags in one night!"  
  
"Not easily. And usually at the expense of you and Mom." I glance at Lydia to see if she noticed my small concession. Her face has the usual soft, sad smile. She doesn't notice.  
  
She doesn't care.  
  
"Dad." Ben trails off, hesitating.  
  
"I could help you." His voice is low, but trembling with excitement, his eyes eager.  
  
"Ben, what." Ben is staring at the case. At the dusty, faded suits with that glint in his eye that I'm all too familiar with. Lydia watches him cautiously.  
  
"I'll be Robin." He makes it a statement, not a question.  
  
It's like a drug, McGinnis. It's attractive, intoxicating, and once you're exposed to it, you can never erase it. And my son is infected with it, Mr. Wayne.  
  
He has the same drive I've had my entire life. Ben understands it. He knows how I think. He knows how I feel.  
  
Just like Lydia used to.  
  
His excitement is contagious.  
  
"It would be a lot of work." But he and I both know from the smile on my face that I've already given in. Ben will be Robin. My Robin. My partner. He will be with me every night, out in the danger and the excitement and the thrill of the chase. My son will be at my side.  
  
My son will be my Robin.  
  
"You two." Lydia says, breaking into laughter. We both stare at her. She notices that we're not laughing and her face instantly turns angry.  
  
"You aren't serious!" Ben senses that his dream- our dream- may be shattered and goes into his pleading mode.  
  
"Mom, come on, I really want to do this!"  
  
"Ben, honey, this looks fun and adventurous now, but you haven't seen your father after a rough fight, or watched him stagger around after being up for 4 days straight!" For a moment I almost agree with her.  
  
But only for a moment.  
  
I want Ben with me. I want him to know what it's like, to be at my side. I want to spend time with Ben.  
  
"Lyd, I'll watch him. I won't keep him out late or let him get hurt. I promise." My voice is desperate too.  
  
"Terry you can't watch him all the time! What if something happens to you? It's too dangerous." Lydia's eyes are weak, and I feel sorry for her. She's on the defensive, fighting as she has been for her entire life against seemingly impossible causes. But this time she's losing.  
  
"But Mom, the danger is worth the risk." Ben comes closer to Lydia, pleasing still in his features.  
  
"I know you think I don't know it's gonna be hard. There's nothing but danger out there, and not everyone has a dad or a dad who's Batman to protect them from it. But I do, Mom, and I want to help. I want to stop all those murders of innocent people. I want to stop my friends from getting harassed by Jokerz on their way to school. I don't want to do this for the adventure. I want to be like Batman. I want to save people." It takes me a moment to realize that this inspiring, passionate speech is genuine. Even though it sounds like it's ripped of some TV special, Ben doesn't have it in him to lie. He truly wants to help people.  
  
Lydia's got her protective face of anger and stubbornness on her face, but I know that face. I move to kneel before her, taking her hand.  
  
"I promise you I won't let anything happen to him. Please let us do this, Lyd." She looks at me.  
  
Please understand Lydia.  
  
Please understand like you used to.  
  
"You better get some sleep if you're going to be out all night tomorrow." Lydia finally answers. Ben throws his arms around her and starts dancing around the cave in glee. She stands; I hug her, and feel her arms creep up to their familiar spots on my shoulders.  
  
"Thank you." I murmur, kissing her forehead.  
  
This is how it's supposed to be. This is how it used to be.  
  
Lydia smiles at me.  
  
"If he doesn't come back in one piece, Batman." She trails off, still smiling but staring at me suspiciously, like I might have some evil plot for Ben.  
  
"Mom, you really think Batman would let anything happen to his Robin?" Ben yells out, listening to his voice echo through the cave. Then he stops in his tracks, as if he's just remembered that they're one and the same:  
  
"Or that Dad would let anything happen to his son?" 


	7. Primo Notturno

I pull the car up in front of Ben's school again.  
  
"Dad!" Ben says excitedly as he gets into the car. He seems a lot happier to see me now that he knows I'm Batman.  
  
"Don't be too happy to see me. You've got a lot of work ahead of you."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Training, Robin." I reply. Ben laughs.  
  
"Sounds better than homework." When we get home, we throw our bags in the living room and head down to the cave. For a second I just stare around at my secret sanctuary, now not-so-secret anymore.  
  
When I jumped into this job, I didn't have any training. I had my street smarts and that was about it. And Wayne couldn't exactly run around with me and show me every move in the book. I made it through, but only because I had the best of the best with me at all times.  
  
But I'm making sure that Ben doesn't have to do the same thing. When he goes out there, he'll be prepared.  
  
"All right Ben," I finally say, rolling up my sleeves. "Let's get to work." Ben stares at me intently.  
  
"Take a swing at me." For a second he doesn't move, probably debating whether or not to hit his father.  
  
Rule Number One, McGinnis: Who you are fighting is who you are fighting, and nothing else. We have no gender, no age, no distinguishing between enemies. Regardless of whether it's your friend or your brother, if you have to defeat them, defeat them.  
  
Wayne was right. Ben's got to learn.  
  
I swing my foot around and trip Ben.  
  
"Dad!" He yells, a little surprised.  
  
"You can't say that out there, Ben. When some criminal attacks you, are you going to stand there and tell him he's not being fair?"  
  
"You've got to be quick. Don't debate where to hit or when to hit. Just hit." Ben gets back up and puts up his fists, bouncing around like some little dog.  
  
"Bennnnnn." I groan.  
  
"I would laugh at you if I saw you jumping around like that. You look like an annoying twip." Ben instantly stops, and I feel bad when I see the hurt look on his face.  
  
I still remember how it hurt when Wayne criticized me:  
  
Wayne, when are you going to get off my back? When you learn to do it right. If everything I do is wrong- I never said you were wrong. I said you weren't right.  
  
"I've never fought anyone before." Ben says, sounding a little ashamed of himself.  
  
"If you want to help me you better get used to it." Ben nods.  
  
"Come on. Think like Batman. You know enough about him." Ben instantly moves to a wary position, like he might run away or attack at any moment. I watch him move around me in a slow circle. I go to trip him again. Ben leaps out of the way.  
  
"Good job." I murmur. Ben acts as though he didn't hear me. I lunge for him. In one swift movement, Ben slides under me and is out of my reach.  
  
His best attribute is going to be speed. I take a swing at him. Ben bends backwards to avoid my fist, grabs onto it, and uses it to flip himself over me, at the same time pushing me towards the ground.  
  
"Are you sure you've never been in a fight before?" I say. Ben smirks.  
  
"I've never fought with anyone before. I never said I haven't been in a fight." Ben's quick. Resourceful. Both are pretty handy to have.  
  
They wouldn't have been Wayne's weapons of choice, but he'd probably have awarded Ben with a grunt of approval.  
  
"You're good at avoiding fights. What about starting them?" Ben furrows his brow for a minute, like he's concentrating.  
  
"I can't fight." He finally says.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I'm just Ben McGinnis now. I'm not as strong as an adult. If I had the suit on." He murmurs, staring at the table where his half finished suit lies.  
  
Rule Number Two, McGinnis: The suit is nothing. Batman doesn't need it and neither do you.  
  
Wayne's right again.  
  
"If you can't do it without the suit, you can't do it at all." I reply.  
  
"You're not taking him out there without that suit, McGinnis, so he has a point." Lydia calls out, stepping out of the shadows. I sigh.  
  
I don't want Lydia involved. This is between me and Ben. Batman and Robin.  
  
"He still has to be able to beat someone without it. He's got to be able to intimidate people."  
  
"Terry, he's twelve." Lydia replies cynically. I turn back to Ben.  
  
"Until you can knock me down, we don't go out there." Ben nods again. I move to punch him. He kicks my fist right back at me. It catches me off guard, so much so that I almost knock the wind out of myself.  
  
Ben knows he's just a kid. He knows that he can't fight like me or a regular adult. Luckily he's realized that he can turn someone's strength against him, or get out of the way of a punch much quicker than I can.  
  
He's found his own way.  
  
Ben kicks me right in the back, then quickly yanks my foot out from under me. I lay on the cold floor of the cave for a minute, listening to Ben's heavy breathing and the still-echoing noise of me hitting the ground. I look up and grin. Ben grins too, and for a second we both realize that we're having fun. Together.  
  
"Let's keep going."  
  
***********************************************************  
  
"Terry?" I look up. Lydia stands in the doorway.  
  
"It's about 10. Ben's going to go crazy if you make him wait any longer." I get up and walk towards the entrance to the cave. Ben's got every reason to be excited. Tonight is his first night. His first night as Robin.  
  
Ben's already in the cave, waiting for me. I say nothing to him, just go to the suit and put it on. Ben follows my example.  
  
That's how he does most things- follows my lead. 3 weeks of training have taught him to think for himself, but he can be forgiven for being a little nervous on his first night. Lydia watches us both. Ben slips the mask over his face.  
  
We went through everything- fighting, hiding, every feature of the suit, what to do in every situation I've ever been in, everything Wayne taught me and everything I learned for myself. Ben's not going to learn anything else down here. Everything else has to be learned out there.  
  
Ben looks like a miniature version of me. He looks ready to play the part. He IS ready to play the part.  
  
I'd like to smile, to give Ben a hug and tell him how proud of him I am.  
  
But now he's Robin. I'm Batman. I can't do that. I just go to the car and he follows me without a word.  
  
We fly out to the city, Ben silent but breathing slowly, almost nervously. I land on a rooftop and leap out. Ben follows.  
  
"You ready?" I say. Ben listens to the change in my voice for a second.  
  
"Always." His voice hasn't changed, but his attitude has. There's no more nervousness. That's good, because in this job you haven't got time to be nervous.  
  
Although hidden by a mask, I can see his eyes. They're bright, shining with eagerness and energy. And I remember my first night. Only 17. Making a dozen mistakes and way too many close calls and almost being killed.  
  
And having the time of my life while doing it.  
  
"First time-we'll take it slow." His face falls a little. I point.  
  
"Typical street gang."  
  
"Yeah. Except they're Jokerz."  
  
"You're not afraid, are you?" His eyes blaze challengingly at me.  
  
"Nope." We crouch on a balcony. Surveying the insanely dressed punks wheel around the dumpster. Side by side. Father and son.  
  
"Come on! What are we just sitting here for?" He hisses impatiently.  
  
"Don't be cocky. You have to know what you're up against before you go up against it." Geeze, I sound just like him. Bet Wayne never imagined that would happen  
  
"Fine. What are we up against? A bunch of kids only 6 years older than me."  
  
"Ben, you can't just-"  
  
"Sure you can." He leaps down.  
  
Foolish. Cocky. Wrong. He'll pay for it.  
  
"Ben, wait!" But it's no use. I sit and watch. He lands in the middle of the circle. He's trapped himself. Too quick. Too many of them.  
  
"Hey look! It's Batty's little boy." One of them sneers. Ben shakes his head, like he's appalled by their immaturity. He slams his foot into one of them, knocking him off the bike. He gives no warning, no retorts to any lines thrown at him. He just fights. I leap down just in time to deliver a last punch to one of them, and they go racing off.  
  
"Are you okay?" He senses my anger, and the exhilarated smile on his face instantly falls.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Don't ever do that again." He nods, sighing like I just put him on a leash.  
  
We land on top of a building, sitting to catch our breath.  
  
"What now?"  
  
"What, that wasn't enough for you?"  
  
"Come on, Dad!" He says, crouching on the side of the building.  
  
"Let's get the real bad guys! Jokerz are no challenge."  
  
"This is a good night. We might actually get more than an hour of sleep." Don't I know it. Most nights are never spent asleep.  
  
"Dad-"  
  
"All right, all right. Let's find something. Don't be so eager." He sighs again, hovering in mid-air.  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"Yeah. Don't call me Dad. Call me Batman." 


	8. Far Arrabbiare

I roll into bed. It's never felt so inviting. Then again, your bed is always softer after you've spent the night fighting for your life and the life of everyone around you.  
  
"Terry?" Lyd murmurs, rolling around suddenly. Funny. I thought she slept like a rock.  
  
"Hmm?" I mutter into the pillow.  
  
"It's 3 am."  
  
"Your point?" Lydia sighs. Funny. She never cared what time I came home before.  
  
"Where's Ben?"  
  
"In bed. He barely made it there. Almost passed out in the hallway, he was that tired." I roll over to face her. Her face contorts in an effort not to wince at the sight of my black eye.  
  
"You should have seen him Lyd. He was great. He remembered everything."  
  
"Is he all right?" She asks softly.  
  
"He's great. God, Lyd, he was amazing. You could tell that he listened to everything I taught him. He beat the hell out of all of them. He could probably give Batman a run for his money. It was so great to see him using all the skills that-"  
  
"Terry!" Lydia says loudly, interrupting me.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Stop." Stop? I'm incredibly, insanely proud of my son. We've just had the best experience of our lives together, doing what we both love, and Lydia refuses to listen to me?  
  
"I thought you'd want to know that he knows what he's doing. That he's not in any danger." Lydia rolls back over.  
  
"Just go to sleep Terry." She whispers.  
  
***************************************************************  
  
"We're home!" Ben and I yell into the cavernous main hall of Wayne Manor. It's a ritual we've had for a while. When he was a kid we used to compete over who had the louder voice.  
  
Now we're equal.  
  
We walk into the dining room. Lydia sits at the dinner table, waiting for us.  
  
"Do we have time to eat, Dad?" Ben asks, eyes already eager for tonight. I feel Lydia's eyes staring at me, neither angry nor happy, and I seat myself at the table.  
  
"We have plenty of time to eat." Lydia says nothing. I put up with the void of silence for a moment, and then I have to fill it.  
  
"How was school?" It's the parent-y thing to ask.  
  
"All right, I guess." Ben says, shrugging his shoulders. Nothing seems as interesting as it used to when you've been flying over the city of Gotham, getting pounded and pounding back until the late hours of the night.  
  
"Your teacher said you fell asleep in class." Lydia murmurs from the end of the table, the first thing she's said all evening.  
  
"Mom, I didn't get to sleep last night till 3 am. Cut me some slack!" Ben says, giving her his usual don't-be-mad-at-me grin.  
  
"Ben, that's not something to be proud of." Lydia says in a low voice.  
  
"You need to pay more attention." I say it like I'm a reprimanding teacher, but Ben sees me smiling and knows I'm completely joking.  
  
"You're just mad because I had to save your butt last night." Ben says, making like he's going to flick his spaghetti at me.  
  
"First of all, Batman doesn't need anyone to save his butt. Second of all, you're the one that forgot to open up your wings when we were supposed to be flying." Lydia coughs loudly from the other end of the table.  
  
"I was a little concerned with the fact that the guy was shooting a gun at me!" Ben says, laughing.  
  
"I'd like not to have to yell 'Robin, open your arms' again." We both feel the glee that comes from doing something together and having the best time of your life while doing it.  
  
"Maybe tonight we'll get to dodge some more bullets." Ben adds, shoving the forkful of food into his mouth.  
  
Lydia drops her utensils on her plate loudly. We both look up.  
  
"You two can run around all night long together and spend every minute you're home in the cave, but at the dinner table, we do not discuss it." There's an anger in her eyes that you rarely see in the calm, impenetrable fortress that she is. Ben and I glance at each other.  
  
Lyd was the one who said yes to Ben doing this. She was there through every step of Ben's training. She watched him learn and she watches us leave every night.  
  
But now it seems like she wants to forget Batman- and Robin- exist.  
  
We're silent for the rest of dinner. 


	9. Bruciato Dal Gelo

"How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it"  
  
-Marcus Aurelius  
  
I get home and wander into the house. Lydia's already here, sitting at the table with a veritable jungle of papers before her.  
  
"Hey Lyd." Lydia gave up saying 'hi' long ago, but I still do it. Force of habit I suppose.  
  
"How was he last night?" I stare at Lydia's concerned face for a second. 12 years and I still don't understand her. Last night she didn't want to hear a word of it. Now she wants a detailed report of how Ben did.  
  
"All right I guess." Ben's doing fine as a sidekick. But I know that that wouldn't have cut it with Wayne. And so it doesn't cut it with me either. Wayne wanted his protégés to be able to stand on their own. He made sure that I could do the job without him. Ben needs to be able to do it without me.  
  
"He's not all right on his own. He needs to learn to be able to do it without me."  
  
"Without you?" Lydia's voice betrays a hint of panic. I move closer to her.  
  
"So far I've bailed him out whenever he gets in trouble. Ben needs to learn to get out of things on his own."  
  
"You're his father. You're supposed to help him when he's in trouble." Lydia's eyes are wide now.  
  
"Come on Lyd. You used to preach about how weak people were that needed to be saved. Well, on this I agree with you. I want Ben to be able to fight it out on his own. He needs to get in a position where I won't be there and he'll have to get himself out."  
  
"You're not doing that to him. To purposely put him in danger just to teach him a lesson? I think you've been hit in the head a few too many times, Terry McGinnis." I sigh. I tried to make it into something that she would agree with, but Lydia doesn't agree with anything I say.  
  
"Look Lyd, I've been doing this for a while. Nothing's going to happen."  
  
"I'm not worried about you!" She snaps.  
  
"You never are." I retort. Lydia used to worry about me. She used to ask me how I was, listen to the answer, and never tell me what to do or how to do it. Now she asks Ben. And Ben only.  
  
"Look, don't you think this has gone on long enough? We let him have his fun. He needs to get back to his life."  
  
I suddenly feel like I'm standing with a complete stranger.  
  
Lydia used to think I was noble. She used to insist that I go off to defend the city back when I wanted to spend every waking moment with her.  
  
Now she thinks what I do is meaningless? That Ben's just having FUN?  
  
"Back to his life? Lyd, this IS his life. He loves being out there! He chose to do it. How can you not realize how much this means to him? God, don't you know your own son?" Lydia's eyes get narrower, and I realize I've made a very bad choice of words.  
  
"You don't know him. You think just because you both get the crap beaten out of you every night together it means you're father and son of the year? You can't make up for 12 years of not being there with-"  
  
"Shut up, Lydia!" I bellow. She's instantly silent. If I have to hear her berate me one more time on how I'm never there for Ben, I'll go crazy. Lydia's face isn't hurt or afraid. There's nothing in it. It's bland, passive.  
  
She used to be so full of violent emotions that you could never predict what she would do next.  
  
I look at her now and I can't remember the last time she said she loved me.  
  
"What's happening, Lyd?" I try to be calm about it, even though I hate the fact that our relationship, our marriage is spiraling out of control. Lydia sits down in a chair.  
  
"He used to cry at night, Terry. He used to cry whenever you had to leave or you didn't come home."  
  
"Stop relating everything to Ben! It's not all about Ben!" She glances up at me.  
  
"Yes it is Terry. It's always been about Ben."  
  
**************************************************************  
  
"How late are we out tonight?" Ben murmurs as we sit in the flyer. Another night out. As Batman and Robin.  
  
As father and son.  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
"Do you ever?" I have to smile. Ben is direct and self-assured.  
  
Cocky, as Wayne would have put it.  
  
"Watch it Robin." We land near a deserted alley and leap out.  
  
"What is it tonight?"  
  
"Extortionist murderers." Ben grins.  
  
"Charming." Slowly we creep around the corner. I open a door and slide inside, flashing the camo on.  
  
Take your time, McGinnis. Danger will always be there. I know, Wayne.  
  
Three very brawny, very intimidating men stand around a stereotypical pencil of a businessman. They've beaten the hell out of him.  
  
"Give us the money." One says in a thick Russian baritone. The man sobs some unintelligible answer. Another smacks him across the face. I don't move a muscle.  
  
"Dad." Ben says in a low voice, crouching right next to me.  
  
"Don't call me Dad, Robin." I growl back.  
  
"Help him!" Ben growls back. Not yet.  
  
"Vlad, persuade him." The one called Vlad pulls out a large knife. Not yet.  
  
"What the." The man murmurs, pausing momentarily to look around him. For a moment I think he's seen me. Then I notice Ben, hanging from a rafter, positioning himself on top of them. Not yet.  
  
"Robin." I say in a warning tone. As usual, Ben completely ignores me, moving closer and closer to the men. I have to admit that he is pretty good. Not one looks in his direction as he swiftly and silently makes his way through the maze of pipes. But then he makes his first mistake. He drops right into the center of their circle. The one names Vlad laughs.  
  
"You've picked a bad night to play dress-up, boy." Now.  
  
I vault out of the shadows, catching the man off guard, slamming him to the ground.  
  
"You've picked a bad one to be threatening people." I reply. All three of them pull their guns on us. We're surrounded.  
  
You're never too late for mistakes, McGinnis. When I got cocky, Wayne started reprimanding me with that. And it rings true, because I've just made a major one.  
  
"What now?" Ben says wryly, folding his arms almost as if it is a game.  
  
"Run." The one named Vlad growls. We're bullet meat if we stay in this building, not to mention their innocent captive. We need to fight them outside. On my turf. Ben and I take off running, but not before splicing the businessman's ropes and allowing him to run away. We fly up into the air, but the three Russians leap onto hover boards and follow us up. Ben and I lead them through a maze of buildings, down alleyways, around smokestacks and up fire escapes.  
  
"Nice going." I murmur. Ben sighs, exasperated.  
  
"I'm sorry. But if you had waited much longer, that guy would have been slagged."  
  
"Don't you think I've been doing this long enough to know when to move and when not to?"  
  
I still feel Wayne's admonition ringing in my ears: Don't be cocky McGinnis. How long am I going to have to do this until I'm experienced enough to not be cocky every time I think I'm right?  
  
"Dad-"  
  
"I'm BATMAN, Robin. That's the most basic rule. Get it right." He sighs again.  
  
"Well, Batman, I said I was sorry!" We finally land on top of an empty building. No trouble. Perfect.  
  
"You'd better redeem yourself." I growl at Ben. Ben breathes quickly. He glances at me.  
  
"Yes sir." His eyes narrow in concentration.  
  
You can do this Ben.  
  
The men swarm in around us.  
  
"I hate to disappoint you, but we are not afraid of a man running around in a costume. And certainly not a smaller version of him." One of them says, laughing.  
  
"Sorry. I'll try harder." I murmur back, tossing a batarang into his hand. The gun goes flying off into oblivion. One of them is shoved forward. Ben's laughter rings out as he comes out of the camo and kicks him in the stomach. Not being one for comments that he considers stupid and corny, Ben just grins at the men. They're too angry to keep up the witty banter, and they swarm in around us. I leap high up above two trying to corner me and surprise them from behind.  
  
"You're probably as weak as the boy." One growls, taking an unsuccessful lunge at me.  
  
"If you'd prefer, I can have him beat the hell out of you." My feet slam into him, and he falls back. I turn to check on Ben. He's gotten himself surrounded. The last two have cornered him, and he's at the edge of the building. For a moment he doesn't move.  
  
"Come on Ben." I whisper. This is it. His moment. If he can't do it now, he'll never be able to.  
  
Come on Ben.  
Prove yourself.  
  
All of a sudden one of them flies backward, coughing and sputtering.  
  
Ben's not that strong.  
  
He stands there, not moving, looking just as shocked as I.  
  
"Lydia?" I yell, for a moment forgetting who I am, where I am, what I'm supposed to be. Then one of them hits me square in the jaw, and I jump back into reality.  
  
"Hah! Now you have a woman fighting for you?" The one who got knocked down snarls at me as he grabs me around the neck. I flip him onto the ground, my foot at his throat.  
  
"Considering she knocked you on your ass, I wouldn't be handing out the insults." I punch him across the face. He crawls to his feet and runs off with the other two, finally giving up. I turn back around. Ben still stands motionless, breathing softly, his hands limp at his sides. Lydia rushes to Ben, not even acknowledging that I stand, bruised and bleeding, a few feet away.  
  
"Are you all right?" She says to him.  
  
"Of course he's all right." I snap. She finally turns and glares at me. I would never let anything happen to Ben. I'm his father. Or does she still see me as that 17-year-old that she doesn't need?  
  
"What the hell was that?" I continue, stepping closer to her.  
  
"That was me saving his life."  
  
"He wasn't in any danger."  
  
"He was about to get slagged, Terry-"  
  
"Batman." She glares at me.  
  
"He was about to get slagged, Batman, and I wasn't willing to let that happen. He needed help."  
  
"He could have done it himself."  
  
"He was surrounded. They were about to get him! You weren't there, just like you're never there, and he needed help!" I feel my face contorting into a glare.  
  
"Ben needed to do it on his own." I growl. Ben stares at the ground. He knows what's happened, what he's lost. She's stolen from him the work of 3 months. He'll never know his own ability or bravery. He had the chance, the only chance he'll ever have.  
  
Lydia's taken it from him. And she doesn't care.  
  
"At the expense of his life, his health? No, McGinnis, I'm not going to let him get hurt because of some stupid test you think he has to pass!" I get right up in her face. Is she deaf? Doesn't she get it? She's ruined it! Ben has to start over at square one. Ben stares, red-faced and shameful.  
  
"What the hell is the matter with you? He wasn't in danger. I was watching out for him. No one needed you to come running in and ruining everything with your stupid presumptions and worries."  
  
"You're never watching him Terry-"  
  
"If you call me Terry McGinnis one more time."  
  
"That's who you are! Unless this stupid suit's taken you over forever! Neither of us even knows you anymore!" I never thought I could be as angry with her as I am right now. She's insulted everything I am, everything Ben worked to become, everything.  
  
And she DOESN'T CARE.  
  
"Robin knows who I am."  
  
"Stop calling him Robin! He's not Robin! He's Ben McGinnis and I think he's just as sick of your crap as I am!"  
  
"If he's sick of anyone, it's you. All you ever do is criticize him! Ben's smart enough to see that."  
  
"Stop it!" Ben yells suddenly. We both look at him. I can't see his expression through the mask, but he sighs in disgust and flies off.  
  
**************************************************************  
  
I storm back and forth in the cave. It's a good thing Lydia can't see my eyes through the mask or she'd see the rage that I know is in my face.  
  
"He's not going out there again." Lydia says. I whirl around.  
  
"You can't do that to him!" She can't do that to me. I will not let her take Ben away from what I know he loves.  
  
"This is the wrong way to spend time with him! Nothing you say is ever going to make this all right! You can't endanger his life just because you can't take time away from your goddamn job or this whole Bat thing!" Bat THING?  
  
"God, you just never quit, do you? I'd rather be there than here. I can't stand being here. I hate it!"  
  
I hate her. The words are out and I don't care, I don't care that I hate her.  
  
At this point I don't care about anything.  
  
"I can't do everything! I'm sick of it!" I snap.  
  
"Che non scopate mai avete fatto comunque qualche cosa."  
  
"Speak goddamn English!" The part of her that used to entrance me now makes me enraged more. I hate her.  
  
"You never do anything anyway!" She yells, leaving her accent heavy in an immature attempt to put me in my place.  
  
"I don't want to do this with you any more." The finality in my voice shocks me for a moment. But it's true. I can't do this, any of it, with her anymore.  
  
"You never wanted to do anything with me Terry! You never wanted me." She says bitterly. What a liar. What a goddamn liar. Lydia KNOWS I love her. She knows there were days when I wanted to spend every waking moment with her. Some kind of tightness hits me in my throat, and I struggle not to scream what I want to scream in her face. I hate you.  
  
Keep control, McGinnis.  
  
"And you never wanted Ben."  
  
Ben. My son.  
  
Every moment, image, experience of my life flashes before me like some filmstrip gone wild as I turn and punch Lydia across the face. 


	10. Straziare

The air hangs still, silent and unnaturally empty. All I can hear is that resonating, sickening smack.  
  
My God, what have I done?  
  
Lydia's eyes connect with mine, and it is this that brings me crashing back to the physical, conscious world. I only left it for a moment and yet here it is, foreign and fresh as if I am entering it for the first time.  
  
It is my first time. As a completely different person.  
  
Her eyes are no longer angry, blazing with hate for what I've done. They're afraid. My God.Lydia is frightened, scared, terrified. Of me!  
  
"Lydia." The voice that issues from my throat is cracking, nearly trembling. I'm terrified too. Terrified of what I've become. She says nothing, merely turns and begins to step away. Slowly and steadily, but moving.  
  
Away from me.  
  
A force I'm powerless to stop makes me reach out and grab her wrist. She snaps away from me, pulling not only herself but also the feeling that I had only a moment ago, the feeling of being myself, with her.  
  
She turns to leave again, but halts. I follow her gaze. Ben. He stands in the doorway, his jaw dropped and his body trembling. Oh no.  
  
"Ben." Lydia whispers. It is the whisper that breaks his trance, and he turns and runs away, Lydia reaching her hand out in a futile attempt to stop him. And then she follows suit, leaving me.  
  
Alone. My God, what have I done?  
  
**************************************************************  
  
Screaming. There is nothing but screaming. I hear Ben screaming, I hear Lydia screaming, I hear myself screaming. What am I doing? My mind wants, needs, tries to get me to stop but I am beyond my control. The blood sprays as I watch my fists pound into Lydia. Again and again and again.  
  
My eyes jolt open. More screaming. For a moment I cannot discern between the dream and the reality. Then I realize that it's not screaming I hear but the ringing of the phone. But I can't dismiss my nightmare because the main core of it is the truth. I hit Lydia.  
  
I roll over with a sigh. 5 am. Who the hell is calling at 5 am? Wearily I stumble up out of bed. Thunder and lightning crack at the windows, thick storm clouds blocking out any light from the fast approaching sun.  
  
I have no idea where Ben is- most likely still in bed. I don't know where Lydia is, and I doubt she'll ever let me know again. I wipe dried tears off my face and walk out into the hallway. I bump right into Lyd.  
  
For a moment we stare at each other. I feel my face turn red.  
  
"There's something wrong with Ben." She says breathlessly, her eyes full of fear. Fear of what is wrong with Ben or fear of me?  
  
"What? Where is he?"  
  
"I don't' know. Gordon just called and said we have to get down there right away." Tears line her face but none fall.  
  
TEARS? On Lydia?  
  
I guess getting smacked by the only person you ever confided in could break down anyone, perhaps even calm, collected Lydia.  
  
I consider saying something, trying to apologize, attempting to get the old Terry McGinnis back. But I can't think of anything I could possibly say to her to make her even think of forgiving me.  
  
I have a sudden urge to take her hand but I know I've lost that right. We are both silent the entire drive down. I force myself to stop dwelling on the fact that I hit her across the face last night and try to worry about Ben. I haven't seen him since he ran off last night, and he was probably very upset.  
  
Who wouldn't be after watching your idol, your hero, your father hit your mother?  
  
But for Gordon to call. Ben, what have you done?  
  
We end up in front of a large building. Policemen are everywhere, Emergency vehicle innumerable. I feel my stomach jump into my throat.  
  
Oh God Ben, what have you done?  
  
Lydia's tears now fall, her fears beginning to overcome 27 years of fearlessness. I catch sight of Gordon and run to her.  
  
"Commissioner Gordon, what the hell is going on?" I realize that I am breathing very quickly. Gordon gazes at me.  
  
"Terry, it's very serious. Maybe you ought to come over to the patrol car and-"  
  
"Where's Ben?" Lydia says, tears making long wet lines down her face. My heart begins to race.  
  
When it's bad McGinnis, you'll know it's bad. It's bad Mr. Wayne.  
  
Ben, where are you?  
  
A sound suddenly breaks through the cacophony of sirens and din of the general area. It is Lydia's scream.  
  
And I see him.  
  
Ben. My son.  
  
He lies on the cracked pavement, a pool of red, vivid blood seeping out from underneath him.  
  
I open my mouth to say his name, to call him. But Ben's not going to answer me.  
  
He's dead.  
  
Lydia slowly moves over to him. Her face is pale and her eyes are wide with horror.  
  
My heart pounds. Blood begins to rush through my veins. Oh No. Oh God no.  
  
Gordon's voice is an echo, a whisper, sometimes in and sometimes out.  
  
".Found him an hour ago. He had.fallen from the top." Her voice is gone. All I can hear is the pounding in my chest and the screams of Lydia. She runs, pushing past dozens of policemen. And I stare.  
  
My God. Ben.  
  
His eyes are barely open, staring upward with a contented, glazed look, as if he had just shot up with a dose of morphine. My hand goes, beyond my control, to his head. And I almost recoil. His skin in clammy. Cold and damp and dead.  
  
Drops of water begin to patter the dried blood around him. And a thicker, deeper rain falls upon his limp body. The stinging rain of an inhuman God, and the agonizing tears of a father who has lost his son.  
  
Dead. My son is dead. 


	11. Dolore

Calm down, Terry. Just hold on. Dad. His voice comes flying back to me, years after I last heard it.  
  
I'm suddenly running. My legs burn at the unexpected strain. The more agonizing the pain is, the faster I run.  
  
Was this what you felt, Ben? Running from us?  
  
I stop. Lydia. She sits on the cold ground, the rain having soaked her to the point of shivering. She sobs. They're strange, shrieking sounds, like her throat's never made the noise before.  
  
Lydia's never felt pain, never known fear or sorrow. Or at least never shown it.  
  
Fate's helping her make up for lost time.  
  
For a second I feel like she's the one who's died instead of Ben, and I have a sudden urge to grab her, to shake her, do anything to make sure that I haven't lost her too. I kneel by her. She barely notices me.  
  
"Lydia-"  
  
"No." Her voice is low and moaning. She almost chokes on her own tears. And she suddenly hurls herself at me. The look of ultimate pain is now overshadowed by one of ultimate hate.  
  
Her hazel eyes blaze and glare at me as she shrieks, pounding her fists unmercifully into my chest.  
  
"You!" She screams over and over. I try to hold her off, but some of her blows land. Blood begins to run from my split lip, but whether it's because I've been biting it in an effort to escape my own pain or because she's hitting me, I don't know.  
  
"Stop it!" I have to force it through my gritted teeth and the lump in my throat.  
  
"Damn you! You killed him! You did it! Emile Idolo, se tu non avere fatto a lui." Lydia trails off in Italian, her punches becoming weaker and weaker until they're nothing and she's practically collapsing on me.  
  
"Lydia, what-"  
  
"I told you, I told you! I begged you; I fought with you not to take him out there!" She sobs into her hands.  
  
"No, no, this isn't my fault!" I screech, feeling how high my voice has gotten. Please don't let this be my fault. It can't be my fault.  
  
I feel my heart going faster and faster against my chest, and I stand frozen. Maybe if I don't move, nothing else will happen.  
  
Why was Ben out here? What happened to him? How could anyone do anything to him?  
  
Why is Ben dead?  
  
If only Wayne were here. If Wayne were here, he'd know what to do. He'd know what I'm supposed to do.  
  
If Dad were here.  
  
If Ben were here.  
  
"He can't be gone." I say hysterically, sounding like I swallowed a balloon full of helium.  
  
"I hate.I hate." Lydia chokes out, never saying what she hates, just moaning it over and over into my chest. I don't know if she's still mad at me, but I don't care anymore. I throw my arms around her, trying desperately not to cry, to be the man I've supposedly become.  
  
"No." I can hear my hoarse voice croak. Tears roll down my face. I'd like to go back to Ben, to stay with him, to beg that inhuman God to give him back, to curse him for taking him away, but I know I'll die if I have to look at that bloody corpse under that white sheet again.  
  
Then again, right now I feel like I want to die.  
  
************************************************************  
  
I blink. The phone is ringing again.  
  
I'm never picking it up again. The last time it rang, it told me what I never wanted to have to hear in my life.  
  
I am at home. In bed. Lydia lays next to me, still fully clothed, still soaking wet and still trembling even in her sleep. I rise, rubbing my eyes.  
  
The house seems empty. Stifled. It's too quiet. It feels unnatural. It feels dead.  
  
The insistent ringing of the phone makes me to jump, and I half-believe that it is Ben, calling to say that it was all a big mistake, some stupid joke, that he's still alive and well. I don't say anything, merely pick it up and listen.  
  
"McGinnis? It's Barbara Gordon."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How are you?" How am I? I'm bad. I feel like my heart's being crushed by someone's indifferent fist.  
  
"I've been better."  
  
"I could believe that."  
  
"Was there something you wanted?"  
  
"Could you and your wife come down to the morgue?" The morgue? Yeah. Like I'm going to take myself and Lydia down to a building full of death and gaze at the body of my son like it's a tourist attraction.  
  
"Could I just come?" No reason to make Lydia do it all over. She doesn't need to be slapped again.  
  
"I think your wife should hear this too." There is an uncertain pause.  
  
"Terry, it's serious." How could it be anyone grave than it already is?  
  
It could be worse. It could always be worse. Mr. Wayne, where are you? You could tell me what I'm supposed to do. How are you supposed to act when your son dies?  
  
I hang up the phone and gently shake Lydia. Her eyes are already open. They're bloodshot. She hasn't slept. How could I?  
  
**************************************************************  
  
We walk into the dark, damp room. The smell of death reeks foul about every inch of the room. Gordon leans against the wall, staring somberly at the floor. Lydia walks slowly, as if her legs will give way beneath her. She shakes and quivers and jumps at every noise. I see a form lying in the pool of white light. It is covered by a white sheet.  
  
Ben.  
  
I feel my lungs tighten, and water is suddenly gathering at my eyes, blurring my vision.  
  
"Terry. Lydia. Thank you for coming."  
  
"What is it?" For the love of God, say it before I start to scream. I can't bear that sight for much longer.  
  
"We've been investigating your son's death." At this, Lydia lets out a small, barely audible whimper.  
  
"And?" I can hear how strained and forced my voice comes out.  
  
"There were no signs of violence, or anyone else near the site at the time of death. There was, however, evidence of premeditation before death." Again there is that uncomfortable silent pause.  
  
I can feel my lungs straining against my chest. This cannot be what I think it will be although I know it is.  
  
"I believe your son committed suicide." My God.  
  
I feel dizzy, and put a hand on the table to steady myself. The table that holds that limp form underneath a white sheet. I instantly recoil.  
  
Lydia's tears are already rolling down her reddened cheeks.  
  
"No. No, he wouldn't. Ben wouldn't. He wouldn't do that. He couldn't. He had no reason to." Her voice is hoarse and she stammers and stumbles over her words, half in Italian and half in English.  
  
"I'm sorry." Gordon says remorsefully. And Lydia finally sees the white sheet. She walks over and gently pushes it up, revealing Ben's face.  
  
His eyes are shut, and the blood has been washed away. He looks for all the world like he's just sleeping.  
  
But the look-he's pale. Pale and dry and not glowing with vitality and hope and everything he is- was.  
  
Lydia begins to sob, sinking down onto her knees and resting her head on the table. Why? Why, Ben? Why did you throw your life away? You had so much to live for. And yet you gave it up.  
  
If you hadn't. Lydia's words come reeling back to me, hitting with the force that they didn't at the time. Did I drive you to it? My God, Ben, what have I done?  
  
Did I push him too hard? Did I make him Robin and ultimately murder him?  
  
"How could I?" I don't realize that the words are audible until they are out.  
  
"McGinnis, there was no way-" Gordon begins.  
  
"Yes there was! I could have seen it, and stopped it! I should have been there! I could've helped him! I could've done something!" I realize that I'm yelling. And crying. Lydia is whispering something in Italian, her tears falling from her eyes to his cheeks, splashing cold water onto cold skin. She gently touches his hair, as if tactile contact will bring him back.  
  
Gordon touches my shoulder. I jump involuntarily.  
  
"Terry." I turn to look at her and she gasps. Why? Is she surprised to see the probable pain and anguish in my face? What does she expect me to be? The stoic, un-moving man who can accept everything with a mere grunt? To look calm and cool and collected?  
  
I'm only 29. I'm not strong. I'm not Wayne.  
  
I am Terry McGinnis, young and vulnerable and in more pain than I can ever dare imagine. 


	12. Muoversi Alimento

"Mr. McGinnis." I glance up from the spot on the wall that I've been staring at. Powers had the humility- or the audacity- to show up at my son's wake.  
  
"I was sorry to hear about your son." He murmurs in that wholly corporate tone. I clench my fists behind my back.  
  
"It's a tragedy how young lives are cut short." I feel murder, that horrible black poison, seeping into my body. I could kill him.  
  
Wisely I keep my mouth shut.  
  
Lydia sits in the corner of the room, her eyes fixed on Ben's body. The sight at first made her sick and she could barely take it.  
  
Now she can't take her eyes off of him. Everyone who offers their condolences receives a bland "Grazie" and no eye contact.  
  
Lydia only uses Italian when she's incredibly happy or incredibly upset.  
  
I can't look at Ben. It would drive me mad.  
  
Today I have to bury my son.  
  
After a good, long, agonizing couple hours of milling around, talking about anything but the young boy in the coffin, they send us all off into the other room.  
  
I try to block my ears, to keep from hearing that horrible sound.  
  
But, clear as a bell, I hear the sharp click of Ben's coffin closing.  
  
We all proceed to the cemetery.  
  
Ben used to hate cemeteries. Even when he got older, and got rid of the fears of ghosts and monsters, he still hated them. He said that they were nothing but gigantic worm-feed patches, and he didn't like the idea of standing over hundreds of dead bodies, even if they were decomposed.  
  
I feel a shiver go up my spine. I'm going to leave Ben in this gigantic worm-feed patch.  
  
Lydia will not say anything. She stares straight ahead, neither at the coffin nor away from it. I linger a little behind her.  
  
I'd like to take her hand, walk with her, try and help her.  
  
Hope to God that she could help me.  
  
But I don't dare infringe on her when she's in this much pain.  
  
The rituals of the modern-day funeral play out. I've seen them so often that they're almost routine.  
  
Funny. Funerals are routine to me.  
  
It ends with the finality of "Amen", and the people mill about for a moment, weighing the appropriate amount of time to remain by the grave before rushing home, away from all this death.  
  
I don't stay long. Ben's gone. His coffin can't mean anything anymore. If Ben was still hanging around, he sure as hell wouldn't hang around in a cemetery.  
  
I watch Lydia. She stares at the hole in the ground for a moment. She takes a step forward, like she wants to jump into the hole after him. But then she turns and follows the crowd of people, not looking back for an instant. I follow her.  
  
I stop in my tracks, letting the rest of the people walk ahead of me for a moment. There, at my feet, is the grave of Warren McGinnis, my father.  
  
Was this fate? The cruel hand of fate playing one last game with me before giving me up to the demons which will inevitably consume me as they have everyone I love?  
  
Maybe. Maybe Not. Ben used to say that to almost every opinion question you gave him. Ben never said anything definitely. He believed that things could change at any moment and it wasn't good to commit yourself to one point of view.  
  
I wish Dad had gotten to see Ben. They would have gotten along great.  
  
But there's no use wishing. There's no guarantee that Ben would still have been born if Dad hadn't died.  
  
I sigh and move on. Lydia's eyes are locked blankly on the ground. Her head is bowed, tears run down her cheeks, and her face is flushed. But she's silent.  
  
Holding it in, as always. Had I no conviction, respect, or love for her, I would grab her and sob and cry until I had nothing left.  
  
But that would be horribly selfish. I would be using her for my own comfort. So instead I act as strong as she believes herself to be and take it all on myself.  
  
So I do nothing, and those around me stare as if I were a callous, inhuman man. They know nothing. They don't understand. How could they?  
  
If I did go for Lydia, she would act like she always does when someone tries to help her. Walk away. Register no emotion. Ignore me. I would be oblivious to her.  
  
She can't spare any energy for me. She's concentrated on Ben and Ben only, as she's always been.  
  
Besides, I could never forgive myself if I caused her anymore pain than she's already been through.  
  
The limo drives us home. We sit across from each other. Lydia's tears continue to grow the further we go from Ben. Her eyes are locked on an abstract spot on the floor. But still she makes no noise. I try. I try as hard as I can to keep from breaking down. But tears begin to drip down my face. I struggle to hold them back.  
  
You don't always have to do the right thing, Dad. Ben used to say that when I was grappling over problems.  
  
I stop trying to suppress them and let the tears flow. Lydia's eyes lift. They connect with mine. A choked sob escapes from my throat and I bury my head in my hands.  
  
I spend my nights risking my life, saving hundreds of people, and yet when I need to be strong, I can't do it. Lydia stares at me, conflict in her face. She wants to comfort me but at the same time wants to leave me to my pain. Finally she lets out a small cry, allowing herself to be weak with me.  
  
Wayne wouldn't have broken down like this. He would have been able to keep it together.  
  
For a second I want to remind myself that I'm not Wayne.  
  
I stop my tears and sit up, wiping my eyes. I reach across and take Lydia's hand. She offers no resistance.  
  
The silence the way home is deafening. I hate it, but I endure it.  
  
It lasts till we arrive here, through our entry to the house, and to us separating. Lydia climbs the stairs almost as if she doesn't care whether she gets up them or not. I go to the only place I've ever gone when I'm in trouble- the cave.  
  
How can it be possible?  
  
Ben is gone. My Son is gone.  
  
Not 48 hours ago he was here, before me, his eyes bright and his face eager, the epitome of youth and innocence.  
  
And then the motive-Why would he do it? Why would my perfect son commit suicide when he had so much good going on in his life?  
  
The tears begin to collect at my eyes, and I know that I need to get away from here.  
  
I go up to the bed. Sleep for a few hours. Awake around midnight.  
  
But I can't escape.  
  
His name beats in my head louder and louder, even in my dreams. It's now around 4 am. With nothing else to do, I stand outside in the cold darkness. Wayne's favorite spot. Contemplating. I'm responsible for so many deaths. Helpless, stupid criminals. It's hard to consider them as being humans with lives when they're trying to take the lives of everyone around them.  
  
But I never considered them till now. Till the life of my son was my responsibility. And it has to be my responsibility. Ben was never unhappy until this damned Robin thing.  
  
I pushed him too hard. I asked too much of him. I went too fast.  
  
I should never have made him live this life. This was for me. How could I push it on Ben? How could I abuse the respect he had for Batman and me and make him the Robin I desperately wanted?  
  
Then again, I didn't really want a Robin.  
  
I wanted Ben.  
  
But how could I risk his life just to spend time with him? My God, what was I thinking?  
  
Dad never would have put my life in jeopardy. If I had been home that night, he would have made sure I got out.  
  
I know how I'm responsible for that. No matter what I've said to anyone, I know that if I had been there, I could have done something.  
  
At the very least I could have died with him.  
  
But if I had, Ben never would have been born. I scoff out loud. What the hell was the point of Ben being born to make our lives perfect for 11 years and then to throw it all, including his life, off a 23-story building?  
  
But I don't know the answer. I'll never know the answer. Why? Why did he do it? How was I responsible for this? It's got to be my fault, but how is it my fault?  
  
My tears again begin to fall as I gaze at the stormy sky. Ben did not deserve this. Lydia goddamn well doesn't deserve this.  
  
And I brought the worst hell in the world upon the people I love more than life itself.  
  
A crack of leaves makes me turn. Lydia. She stands there, in an image I never wish to see again.  
  
Her face is a glowing visage of agony and horror. Her eyes are wide. Tears cover her bronze cheeks and hands. Her entire body is quivering.  
  
"Lyd." My voice cracks at the sight of her tears.  
  
"I'm sorry." She shakes her head. Is it to reassure or condemn me?  
  
"Lyd-"  
  
"Damn it, Terry!" She cries, shaking me off. The piece of paper in her trembling hand crumbles as she thrusts it at me.  
  
"He did it for us." In her voice is the pain of ultimate suffering. The pain I felt when my father died, when Wayne died, when my mother died, and when I died yesterday.  
  
I don't want to look at it. But my body acts without my control.  
  
It's Ben's suicide note.  
  
Dear Mom & Dad,  
I can't do this anymore. I can't deal with this anymore. I know I was a mistake. I know that I've caused you both nothing but pain my entire life. I ruined your lives. Every day, there's nothing but screaming and fighting, and every single fight has got something to do with me. We all used to be happy. We used to be an actual family. You guys used to love each other. Now you just fight over who loves me more. I know I was an accident. Not like you guys ever hid it from me, but I know I made life so hard for you both. I'm sorry, Mom. I made you family disown you. I made you get kicked out of school. I made you marry too young and I made you worry too much. I did it all and I'm so sorry. And I'm sorry, Dad. I made you a father at 18. I made you another responsibility added to the hundreds you already had. I did that all too and I'm sorry. But what I'm so so sorry for is what I've done to you both. That I've pushed you, Dad, to the point of physically hitting you, Mom- that's the end of it. I've driven you apart. I've changed love to hate and care to tolerance. I can't change anything else, but I can change that. I'm sorry. I watch you fight day in and day out and I know that all of it somehow relates to me. I can't stand the fighting anymore. I can't stand knowing that I'm the cause of it. I can't cause you pain anymore. I love you both too much.  
  
Your loving son,  
  
Benjamin Terrence McGinnis  
  
No. I will not believe it. But it's true. I know it's true. Ben's so caring. He gives up everything for everyone else.  
  
The paper I hold is cold, drips of water blurring some of the letters.  
  
Were they his tears? Or Lydia's? Or are they my own?  
  
My God, what kind of insanity am I thinking?  
  
Ben is dead! For me! For Lydia! For us and for himself, he's dead.  
  
I have murdered my son. Not in the way I thought I had murdered him, but in a way that I never thought of, a way that I could have prevented.  
  
I can hear someone screaming. Roaring unutterable oaths to the sky. Cursing the bloodthirsty God who did this. And I realize it's me.  
  
And amidst all this pain I feel, the sensation that my chest is about to burst, I remember something.  
  
I haven't been Batman for almost a week.  
  
And I don't care at all. 


	13. Risoluzione

I hate the first day back.  
  
When something tragic happens, like a loved one dies, or some horrible accident befalls you, the first day back is always hell.  
  
Everyone gazes at you with that I'm-so-sorry look. They look away and exchange glances of pity with each other and then make a small smile in an effort to boost your spirits.  
  
Good morning Mr. McGinnis. How are you Mr. McGinnis.  
  
They all know how I am. Or could at least deduce for themselves that I feel like taking a stake and driving it through my own heart.  
  
Or that it's already been driven for me.  
  
I wander down the halls of Wayne-Powers Enterprises, trying desperately to avoid all the co-workers I can.  
  
Doesn't matter. They still find ways to get in my face, making sure that they give the boss their words of condolences.  
  
I let myself be driven home. I don't have the energy to drive anymore.  
  
As I walk in the house I try to step quietly, not to make any noise. It doesn't work. A mouse would make an echo in the halls of Wayne Manor.  
  
My footsteps jar the eerie silence, and I debate whether or not to scream, if only to give the house a little bit of life again.  
  
You can't put life into Wayne Manor. Death's been surrounding it so long that it doesn't know anything else.  
  
I walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. I suddenly feel like I'm in some sacred museum- very beautiful and very cold. Everything's a relic, because everything's something Ben touched.  
  
I feel hot tears beginning to sting my eyelids again. I gave up trying to control them. I can't fight tears shed over Ben. I doubt Wayne would think that this, my only comfort, is a weakness.  
  
I can't think of Ben without tears coming. And the tears don't come because I miss him (which I do) but because I made a horrible mistake and I brought this on myself.  
  
I hear a door closing softly. It's Lydia.  
  
She didn't bother going back to work. Hell, she didn't even bother to call and tell them what happened.  
  
She walks into the living room, stops, and watches me cry for a minute. I don't even look up. It makes me ashamed when I see her being strong and I can't be.  
  
"Terry?" However, that's the first thing Lydia's said to me for a week. That might warrant a bit of attention. I glance up at her. She wavers for a minute, as if she doesn't know what to do, then steps forward. I finally notice the tears on her face.  
  
It's like I woke up with a whole different person the day Ben died. It's hard to get used to this new creature who allows herself to be sad at her son's death and cries freely as opposed to the stalwart statue that you were married to for 11 years.  
  
I hesitate for a minute, then hold my arms out to her. Lydia rushes into them.  
  
"I'm sorry." She breathes out, and I can tell that she's got so many things she wants to say that she's worried I'll leave before she gets to finish.  
  
What's she sorry for anyway? I smacked her across the face, Ben killed himself. So far Lydia hasn't done anything wrong.  
  
"You didn't do anything, Lyd." I say softly.  
  
"No, Terry. All of this is my fault, and I'm not going to try and blame it on you like I've been doing for years." For a second I think I see the old, tough Lydia breaking through, and then I realize the old Lydia wouldn't be sobbing into my chest as she said it.  
  
"Why would you think it's your fault?"  
  
"If I hadn't fought with you. If I hadn't interfered all the time, always blaming you. I drove you to it." I wonder what it is she drove me to, and then I notice the fading bruise on her cheek and instantly remember.  
  
That was my sin, not hers. Lydia and I might not have agreed on many things, she might have spent a decade yelling at me for never being there, she might have made me feel like I wasn't doing good enough when I was doing my best, and maybe she shouldn't have jumped in when Ben needed the solitary achievement, but that was absolutely no reason to hit her.  
  
"Look, you can argue that you're responsible for a lot of things, but that-"I spit out 'that' like the word disgusts me "that was entirely me. I'm so sorry for it. For you to think that you drove me to hitting you- How could I?" Some strange rush of revulsion comes over me, and I realize that I'm ashamed of myself.  
  
Possibly because the fact that I hit my wife just sinks me down into the level of the criminals that I fight every night.  
  
Or rather, used to fight.  
  
"It wasn't you, Terry. It was Batman." She suddenly laughs bitterly.  
  
"And God help me, I forgive him too for everything that he's done." Batman was the reason we fought so much. Batman was why I was always gone and why I hit Lydia.  
  
She can forgive him, but I don't know if I can.  
  
"I missed you, Terry." She begins, wiping away her tears. "You faded away into Wayne-Powers, Batman, Ben, everywhere but me. You push yourself too hard. You think you have to be just like Wayne was, or better. But I screwed everything up when I let you go on thinking that I didn't need you or that the only thing I cared about was Ben." She doesn't need me. She never did.  
  
Now Lydia stares at me with her tearful eyes and weak face and I realize that maybe I've been fooled all these years.  
  
"I was disowned, Terry." She wails. "Do you know what that means in Italy? Where family is more important than the air you breathe? It's what you live for, and die for. Everything you do reflects back upon it, and your main purpose in life is to protect the family. Everything else is secondary. To be disowned is worse than death. It's living without a purpose."  
  
I've lost most of my family, but I'll never know the pain of being willingly cast out of it. It was a very long time ago, but Lydia apparently thinks of it like it happened yesterday.  
  
"It was fine in high school," Lydia continues a bit more softly. "because I still had my father. Sure, he could run around trying to forget the fact that he ran away from his family and the memory of his wife and barely acknowledge that I existed, but he was still my family. And then you showed up." She glances up at me.  
  
"I'm glad you showed up, but we went too fast. We do everything too fast." That's because both Lydia and I don't admit that we're human and we can make mistakes. We've always seemed to think we're above it because we understand each other and we understand ourselves.  
  
"Ben is what made me lose my family. If something makes you lose what you most cherished, you're going to either kill it or hold onto it as tightly as you can." She laughs bitterly.  
  
"I held on a bit too tightly. Hell, I practically choked him, not to mention you."  
  
"I'm sorry." I murmur, staring back at her.  
  
"I justified it by Ben. Everything was justified by Ben. Ben was the reason I lost my family, but I'd just as soon give them up for him. And for that reason I couldn't stand it when you unwittingly hurt him."  
  
"I shouldn't have," She adds. "I shouldn't have tried to fight with you when you're the only family I have left, the only one that's never left me."  
  
"I won't. Not as long as you need me." I glance up at her. I don't know if Lydia needs me. She never has, or at least never said so. Lydia's never needed much of anything, except her own freedom and someone to understand that she wants to need nothing, but can't.  
  
That someone is me.  
  
"I do." She whispers, crying harder. "It took me too long to realize that I had a family all along."  
  
Ben may have taught her to need me, and he may have taught me that there are hidden darknesses in myself that I didn't even know existed, but it came at a terrible price.  
  
He wanted to free us from pain, to free himself, but all he did was show us that we're not invincible and it just takes more of it for us to call it pain.  
  
"It's almost 10." Lydia murmurs in my ear, tears still making a wet spot on my shoulder, but her voice out of its raspy tone.  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
"Aren't you going to go out?" She says, leaning back to stare at me.  
  
Yeah. Like I can go out there without Ben.  
  
"I'm not going. I'm never going again." Lydia's face instantly gets red.  
  
"No! You have to go out there!" She says.  
  
"I don't want any part of it. It killed Ben and it drove us apart."  
  
"Ben killed himself. Being Robin had nothing to do with it. He loved it, Terry! He loved every second of it, being out there and helping you save people!" And God, what a Robin Ben made. He was great. If Wayne could have seen him, he'd have been proud.  
  
Ben was probably the only Robin born out of compassion and love, rather than revenge and redemption.  
  
But how can I go back out there? Knowing that he's not there with me, that he won't be at my side if I need him? Wanting to turn and say something and have to hear nothing but eerie silence instead?  
  
"You have to go back out there. Terry." Lydia continues, standing up and pulling me with her. "Ben didn't want you to quit being Batman. He may have wanted the Terry McGinnis part to shape up, but he never found one thing wrong with Batman. If you quit, it makes his whole death meaningless."  
  
"Don't you want me to quit?" Lydia shakes her head.  
  
"I never wanted you to quit. What you do is noble. It's what you're meant to do. And Ben loved you for it." I wipe some more tears off of my face. She's right.  
  
"It's not the suit's fault Terry. We're responsible for our own actions." Lydia says. Wayne said the exact same thing to me years ago. He was right too.  
  
And so I kiss Lydia, something I haven't done in God-knows-how-long. We both smile, because we remember exactly how it used to be, and exactly how it will be again, because that's what Ben wanted.  
  
That's what Ben died for.  
  
I head down to the cave and don't hesitate. I'm out in the city. I think of Ben, but I don't think of how much I miss him. I think of how much I loved having him with me.  
  
Do the work, and it'll repay you. Do it well and it'll reward you when you need it the most. For a while, I never knew what Wayne meant by it. All the work used to reward me with was injuries and reasons to fight with people, both in the suit and out.  
  
Now I understand. I take down criminals, hear their remorseful cries and it soothes me, revives me. The pounding my own body takes cleanses me.  
  
This is for you Ben. My one and only Robin that I'll never ever forget.  
  
My son Ben.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Thank you for your reviews and feedback! This story is concluded in Reckoning Pt. 3 


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